Ok, ok, let’s be honest here. Physically, I’m there at 46 if not and some. I had to ask my husband to borrow his grocery store reading glasses yesterday to read because I couldn’t hold the book at an appropriate distance to see the words correctly, and I couldn’t find my grocery store reading glasses. My hands feel like there is fire in my knuckles at times when my arthritis flares up. And one of my kids told me my butt is flat two days ago. Um, no it’s not. That one I can’t handle. I’m not going down like that.

Mentally and emotionally though? I don’t feel old. I know I’m not O-L-D, but I’m certainly old in younger circles opinions. I was at work the other day at one of my care homes, and on the TV was on an old black and white movie. The men were commenting on how a woman had gone down hill, and just let herself go, ‘but she was 45′ was the explanation the men gave. Sigh.

Not feeling the 46 years in ways such as going to more concerts this summer than I have in the last 10 years combined. I feel young and free at concerts. I LOVE the loud music. Grant it, one of the concerts will be Huey Lewis and the News, I won’t be rocking out, but I will be singing every word. I’m balancing that show out with others where I will clearly be in the top 2% of the oldest people there by far. Don’t care. Don’t throw off my groove man.

I just signed up for a teaching credential 2 year college degree program last week. My family witnessed me running around the house, laughing and happy singing “I’m going to college!” I’m definitely not feeling my oncoming 46th year when I’m returning to college. This is when I don’t feel old, because I feel like I still have a lot to give. I’m not done yet.

Two years ago, I wrote The older I get…the more free I feel. I vowed to make the rest of my life the best of my life. I’ve been thrown some serious curve balls, and things haven’t gone quite as smoothly as planned since then, but always working on it.

My friends and I, while in the trenches of babies and toddlers, used to comment on how hard things were. At that time, we also recognized that as hard as baby and toddler mom life was, teenager mom life would be a different kind of hard and tired. Turned out to be a true story. Rewarding and loving, but a different kind of hard.

A friend posted this article on her FB page today, it’s a long read, but I loved it. Take the time and read it if you’re in the 40 somethings and in a not feeling it yet place like me! Appreciate the things that the 40’s have brought. There are many. The post was touching and also super funny. The fact that I have yet to step foot on our trampoline that has been in the backyard for the past couple of months directly related to the author stating getting on the trampoline would result in 3 chiropractor visits the following week!

I am known as the OSHA supervisor of my family. I am always looking at what could go wrong with any situation, and I try to avoid the risks. Our friends joke that I don’t let my kids eat with forks due to the danger. I joked with them last week that we’ve moved onto sporks, but the weak almost bendable type!

I attribute my noticing everything partially to just who I am, and partially from risk management classes during college. Always be aware of what could go wrong, and prepare for it.

This has led me to constantly have my eyes open and scan the area, and unfortunately for me, often times I just can’t ever erase some of what I see once I’ve seen it. Here are four examples that come to mind right away:

1. Woman defecating in the parking lot in front of Toys R Us.

This past Saturday, I was working, and in between visits to care homes, I stopped at Michaels to pick up some more supplies and to eat my lunch while sitting in my car in the parking lot. As I was pulling into the shopping center parking lot, I noticed a woman walking on the sidewalk that was walking unsteady, and was overall disheveled. As I parked my car and started eating my lunch, I noticed the woman had turned into the parking lot. As I stared out of my front window blankly letting my mind wander, I noticed her stop in a row that had dirt on the inside, pull down her pants, squat, and start going to the bathroom. At this point, my head went back and forth, scanning the area to see if there was ANYONE ELSE that was seeing this!

CARS DROVE BY HER! I watched the drivers, no one seemed to pay much attention to the woman squatted and pooping 2 feet from where their car was driving by!!! I scanned my eyes more, and noticed a security guard, shooting the breeze while smoking with another guy, and it just so happened he was sitting on a shopping cart rail where a van was blocking his view of the woman pooping about 100 feet from him. WHAT. THE. HELL. She got up, pulled up her pants, and carried on. It was like I was getting Punked. It was also clearly not her first time doing this, because she didn’t miss a beat. Needless to say, my grocery store sushi roll did not get eaten.

I HAD to make this to show how it really went down:

2. Guy tying off his arm in two places whereas what I would assume to be in order to shoot up.

Thankfully, sometimes others see the things that I notice too. Although, it would have been nice if not everyone in the car would have seen this episode. Driving home from camping last week through a small farming town near the coast, right on the corner of a highway, no one else around, there was a man using his teeth and spare hand to tighten up a second elastic tourniquet on his right arm. My husband and I both gave each other this look:

Then the questions came from the 3 kids in the backseat. Lovely conversation that I never thought I’d have to have, about something I never expected to see.

3. Older man’s pre-batting softball ritual.

Again, I was very thankful that this next one was witnessed by another person. A friend who I will be able to text throughout life without needing much explanation as a description of this event. Our husbands play on a softball team together. A player from the other team got up to bat, approached the plate, and put the bat between his legs, and motioned it back and forth about 7 times before assuming his batting stance.

But, let’s just say, to be putting it very mildly, it was not A Rod that we were watching. And, it was not raining, nor wet outside. It was about 95 degrees and very dry.

4. Vomit at Disneyland’s World of Color show.

A few years back, when Disneyland’s World of Color outside water light show was new, we took the kids to see it as a last event of a very long day. The show started, and due to my love for fireworks and the like, I was super excited. Then, it happened. Someone about 5 feet behind me, in the middle of the walkway threw up. What happened next was mesmerizing. Within about 60 seconds, a Disneyland worker with a briefcase showed up. He took out a special package, unwrapped it and put on the gloves that were inside. Next, he unwrapped a special paper towel set and scooped up the mess, and placed it into a zipped container. Throughout this process, I swear I had the Bugs Bunny Looney Tunes factory song playing in my head:

He then got out a sprayer, and sprayed the ground, wiped it up with another special towel that he had unwrapped, and quickly shut his briefcase. And just like that, he was gone. I had my head rubbernecked behind me watching the detailed way that vomit was cleaned up at Disneyland for 5 minutes of the show. I can’t tell you what songs played during the show, or what was projected up onto the shooting water. But, I can tell you in detail the vomit clean up process. I looked around often to see if anyone else was watching with me. I even commented to my husband a few times, to which he clearly believed I was crazy to be so interested about the vomit clean up committee.

This is a very short list of the type of things I notice on an almost daily basis. It’s a gift and a curse to see so many things that others may not. And even though it’s most likely due to me being nervous and anxious that I am constantly casing my surroundings, at least I have some good stories!

The prior Sunday, I went to let the chickens out of their Taj Mahal chicken coop, and my white one, Foggy (Full name Foghorn, because she’s a Leghorn type chicken. How could we not name her that?)

Anyhow, when I opened up the coop door, Foghorn, who is white, had blood covering her head and parts of her body. Scared me to death. When I tried to clean her up, the only thing I could determine is that I had thought the blood was coming from her comb (the red thing on top of her head.) I left her in the coop alone because it’s possible that she was picked on by the others and they did the damage. About an hour later, she was not doing well. I picked her up and brought her inside of the office and put her in the sink and gave her a cool bath. I have never given a chicken a bath. I have no chicken medical experience, but it was over 100 degrees out, and she didn’t seem good.

My husband came home to a pretty much non responsive chicken inside a cat carrier, in our office with the A/C on. He’s usually pretty grossed out by animals inside, but I think he knew, this being our most friendly and sweet chicken, who “talks” to us each time we talk to her, she needed to be taken care of the best way possible. I wasn’t sure if she was going to make it. The only way we described her was to say she was “beak down.” Couldn’t lift her head, and couldn’t stand. I gave her water out of my hand repeatedly through that evening. The next morning, as I was apprehensive to check on her, she was standing, and then eating, and talking to us. Crazy! I put her in with our goats so that she wasn’t with the other chickens in case they were the culprits in this whole injury to start with.

There’s the backstory, on to the A-Holes…

On Tuesday, I was rushing to get all animals situated so I could leave for 2 nights to go away with my husband, with no kids. (Sidenote: it’s been 8 years since we have been gone without kids for 2 nights.)

As I was rounding up the chickens to put them inside their coop so I could leave, A-Hole #1 began hanging around the goat pen checking out Foggy through the fence posts with WAY too much interest. So, as I picked her up and carried her to the coop, I told her (out loud) “Stop being an A-Hole, leave Foggy alone.”

When I went to close the chicken coop door, I realized only 2 of the 3 that should be in there were standing there looking at me.

The 3rd?

Over this fence in a neighbors yard.

Did I mention I was trying to get on the road to get away for 2 nights? I was already 1/2 hour later than I had wanted to leave, with no leaving in quick sight.

So, there I was, trying to call this chicken, entice it with treats, everything I could think of, and I reluctantly realized, there was no other option than to hop that damn fence.

When one of the chickens has gotten into this neighbors yard in the past, I have gotten one of the kids to climb the ladder, get over the fence, pick up the chicken, and climb back up the cross boards up and over the fence to put this chicken back on the right side of the fence. We have no idea how these chickens pull their Houdini moves to get to the other side of the fence, so we don’t know any other way of getting them back.

No kids were here last Tuesday though. My 45 year old self had to hop the fence, get in the other people’s yard, pick up the chicken, and climb the fence back over. As I was straddling the top of the fence with the chicken in my arms, one leg on each side of the fence, I told Blackjack (out loud), “You’re an A-Hole.” Then brought her to the safety of her coop.

This below is the reason why the chickens are no longer free to roam the yard whenever they want and have to be put in the coop sometimes:

This guy. Cooper. Our 4 month old pup. He’s fond of chasing the chickens and then giving their feathers “kisses,” for lack of a better description.

These two savage beasts that we have could care less about the chickens:

I can not believe my good fortune in being able to collect $800,000. All I need to do is give you any form of my identification, for example: my international passport or my “driver license”, my telephone and fax numbers for easy communication. And “more also” my mailing address where this Draft will be delivered? My gosh, don’t forget, you probably need my social security number also don’t you? I’m certain this would make it even easier for you to deliver these funds.

Just to clarify, you need me to “hasten up and pick this Fund?” I’m not too sure what that means, but ok. I’m sure that once you get all of my personal information, possibly the blood of my firstborn as well, that will all be worked out.

I can not believe that this is my last chance to cash in on this amazing opportunity. I have no idea why your past emails have gone unanswered by me. I feel so bad for wasting your time previously. I so apologize for that, and am unmeasurably appreciative that you sent me one last email.

Thank you Mr. Song Soo Shin, I can not wait to tell my family that we get to book a 2 week trip to Hawaii, buy new cars for everyone, and get those ponies that my daughters have always wanted. Followed by a big fat addition on our home so my kids don’t have to share a room any longer. Truly Mr. Song Soo Shin, I have you to thank for future decreased fighting between siblings in this house.

I have an irrational, obsessive fear of elevator shafts and street drains.
Let me explain.

First, elevators.

I’m not scared of an elevator falling to the bottom floor as you may think is my fear regarding elevators. I’m afraid of that little spot between the floor, and the elevator.

The slat that is a perfect spot, that if my keys fell, it would be a fiasco to try and get them back. There is not a time, not once, that I step onto an elevator and I don’t think about that hole, and my keys falling into it. I then go through the steps in my mind that I believe would be how to get them back. This is what I’ve come up with. If we’re at a large building, say a casino, there are people that work there all over, I believe I could find the right person to lead me down to what I picture as a basement with a burning stove, where in movies, it’s creepy and murders take place. BUT, there would be my keys, sitting at the bottom of the elevator shaft, along with what I would imagine are wallets, money, phones, and other keys belonging to people who hadn’t thought through a plan, and figure their item is gone for good.

IF, it is a small elevator, in say, a small apartment complex. I figure I’m pretty screwed. It’s going to take a long while to get someone who knows where to go and what to do to get me my keys that fell down the hole. But, if I can get the keys to the bottom elevator floor room, I’m pretty sure I’d have the situation locked down. I’ve thought it through in my mind so many times, I’m pretty sure I’ve come up with all possible solutions.

So, as I think through my plan of action each and every time I get on or off of an elevator, you can look closely, and will see that I am distracted in my thoughts of where exactly my keys are. If they are in my purse, and there is any possible way that they can fall out and land perfectly as to slide down that crack into the elevator dungeon, I’m double checking that my purse is securely closed, possibly checking multiple times. If my keys or phone are in my hand, there is a death grip on them.

My husband was with me when I took the picture above of the floor in front of the elevator. He said “What are you doing?” I told him that I was taking a picture because I may write a post on how I’m scared that my keys will fall down the elevator shaft through the slot between the floor and the elevator. His reply? “Alright.” Really, no skin off his back, this isn’t his first rodeo with me and my crazy thoughts, he knows there is no reason to question further.

Moving on to street drains.

As if the elevator wasn’t enough to worry about, there are street drains.

These pose an entire different threat. Some, I don’t get too incredibly worried about, because you can see the bottom. Yet, on a rainy day, that bit of comfort is totally gone. Once those keys hit the flowing water downhill, they are gone. And really, I have no plan for that one. As well as the large drains where you can’t see the ground. No plan other than calling the City Utility district and maybe making up a story that the keys belonged to the limo of a top government official or something so that maybe they would come and help me look for them.

And what about this sign that often accompanies a street drain? It makes this whole process even harder to handle. Really? A creek? I’m never getting my keys back, ever.

Street drains. I have to hold my keys even tighter in my hands then when I’m walking onto an elevator. Some of these drains seem large enough for my whole wallet to fall through. I will avoid walking directly over them at all costs.

The other night, I felt like someone pulled the banana in the tailpipe trick on me. Not really that trick specifically, but a clever one that got me. As I leisurely got out of the car at Target, I looked down and this is what I saw:

Good Lord. I let out what I imagine would be described as a loud gasp, like, I just missed getting hit by a dart or something.

Thankfully, my keys and phone were tucked away in my pockets, where they were not threatened by this unexpected drain.

I can pretty much guarantee that I will never park in that spot at Target again for as long as I live.

I think it’s safe to assume that you would not be surprised at this point to know that each and every time that I take off a ring or earrings near a sink, that I mentally go through the steps of taking apart the pipes below to rescue any fallen jewelry. I find comfort in having a plan.

And, there you have it. My brain. It’s never boring in there, there’s always something that I can find to worry about!

I’d love to know if anyone has every dropped anything down the elevator shaft hole, or in a drain, and what the outcome was. I am fully willing to add a new plan of action to my current ones if need be! 🙂

OH MY GOSH! After I wrote this, I googled ‘my keys fell down the elevator shaft’, and this came up!

Like this:

My very good friend asked me the other day if I’d seen the commercial for the best friend/wedding ring. Um, no.

We have talked many times about the whole husband as my best friend thing. That’s why this commercial was so extra hilarious to us. Really? You need 2 diamonds? One for your marriage, and one to state you’re best friends? Yuck.

I made a mental note to watch it on YouTube.

She texted me tonight that she had just seen it again on TV and had I seen it yet. I immediately went to YouTube. And this is what I saw:

I may or may not have texted her that I had just thrown up in my mouth.

Again, I’m not a hater. I love that people are happily married. I gave that disclaimer in my post My husband is my best friend…NOT. Heck, I have tomorrow’s date circled on the calendar because it will have been 20 years from the day my husband and I met. I’m just not into the husband best friend thing, let alone a ring with two diamonds.

I’m thinking it’s a new ploy to get even more extra competitive over the engagement ring. Did YOU get 2 diamonds? An extra for being a best friend, or just one diamond because he has a different best friend than you?

Like this:

I have SO much to say after watching the full 4:04 length video of this SNAKE FIGHT!!! WHAT???

I will never, ever go to Singapore.

I loved the part in the beginning where the man filming said in a very high voice, ‘Hooooo!’

Why in the wide world of sports were those people standing 3 feet from from the SNAKE FIGHT!!!

Those were BIG ASS SNAKES!

Where is the one that went in the bushes?

Why are there still people walking around when there is a snake like that in the bushes.

That poor guy who had to hold the bag. I had tears in my eyes as I watched that. Half out of fear, half out of laughter. Just a guy in a t-shirt, holding a white bag for a 6 foot long snake that was just in a SNAKE FIGHT to go into!

I don’t even necessarily like the song that much, but I can identify with it. And not for what I’d imagine it’s supposed to mean, like partying like a rock star, or whatever the song is truly about. Yet, my glamorous take on it, is if I continue to get migraines this summer like the one I got yesterday, ‘This Summer’s Gonna Hurt Like A Motherf****r!’

If anyone got the license of this truck that must have hit me yesterday:

Or if you could tell me if I got any good punches in during the fight against this guy last night:

Because that’s how I feel today. The ginger helped with the nausea, which was nice (Ginger for Migraines). Nothing touched the headache or helped me figure out where my brain was and why my head was dizzy today though.

Oh well, as I tell my kids sometimes when they’re not feeling up to something ‘fake it ’til you make it.’